


Sometimes

by daniomalley



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniomalley/pseuds/daniomalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey thought he was done with dating, but Gerard had other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/gifts).



> Written for the bandom_meme exchange, for Lucifuge5.

Mikey probably would have taken it better if Gerard had eased him into the idea. As things played out, though, he found out when he noticed a stack of envelopes in the mail basket that seemed out of place. They were obviously not bills, that was what caught Mikey’s eye. And when he picked one up, he noticed that it was addressed to ‘Anthrax Fan’ at a P.O. box, and not the street address. Each of the other letters bore the same address in different handwriting.

It didn’t take long for Mikey to draw several conclusions from this. There were only a few reasons he could think of for people to send letters to a P.O. box under a pseudonym. Really, only one, considering all the evidence. And the letters couldn’t be for Gerard, who liked Anthrax well enough but wasn’t a huge fan. In any case, he was annoyingly, sickeningly in love with Ray. As Mikey shuffled through the envelopes, a series of odd occurrences throughout the past week came to mind and his eyes narrowed.

Mikey didn’t give himself a heap of time to consider whether it was a good idea or not, just took the top envelope from the pile and opened it. If anyone complained, Mikey figured he could just claim to have spaced out and made a mistake. Anyone would believe that.

The first lines of the letter confirmed his suspicions. _Hi, Anthrax Fan,_ it read. _I, too, think that Anthrax is one of the greatest bands of the 70’s..._ Mikey screwed up his nose and shoved the letter back into the envelope. 

Mikey went through the other letters quickly, figuring out as he read that they were all replying to a personal ad that had been put in the newspaper several days earlier, and a few of them made him wonder just what Gerard (because it _had_ to have been Gerard) had written about him.

And it was right around then that Gerard arrived home. “Oh,” he said, seeing Mikey stand over the pile of mail. “You found the letters. Cool. I was... I was hoping to talk to you about that first...”

“What did you do, Gerard?” Mikey demanded.

“Right.” Gerard clasped his hands and drew a deep breath, like he was about to launch into a prepared speech. “I can’t help but have noticed that you haven’t been on a date in, well... over a year now,” he said, and yep, his words sounded decidedly rehearsed. “And I understand your reasons, but I’m your brother and I care about you, so I wanted to do something to try to help.”

“And that something was...?”

“I put a personal ad for you in the _Herald_ ,” Gerard said.

“Which said _what_ , exactly?” Mikey asked. “You spent all last week trying to make me take these stupid personality quizzes on the sly – I thought that was strange. _You_ got Ray to ask me who I’d fuck, marry and kill out of all our favourite movie monsters, didn’t you? One of these letters has a guy offering to dress up as a vampire for me!” 

“Really?” Gerard asked, sounding intrigued. 

“I don’t have a vampire fetish, and I’m not meeting him,” Mikey said firmly. “Did you try to get Brendon to find out what my ideal date was?”

“Well, technically I asked Ray to ask him...”

“I thought he was hitting on me!” Mikey said indignantly. 

“Brendon wouldn’t...”

“I _know_ ,” Mikey huffed. “He made that perfectly clear.”

“He didn’t mean it like that.” 

Mikey shrugged, pretending indifference. He wasn’t interested in Brendon either, but the way he’d said ‘Oh, God no! I didn’t mean _that_!’ had stung a little.

“He’s intimidated by you,” Gerard said. “Not because of your Phases or anything-” Mikey stiffened, “-but he looks up to you a lot. He wants to impress you.”

“Whatever,” Mikey said. “What the hell did you write about me?”

“Here.” Gerard handed Mikey a newspaper opened to the relevant page, and Mikey glanced over it until he found the right letter. He rolled his eyes as he read it – there was nothing awful in there, but it was so typically Gerard. 

“You don’t mention my Phases in there at all,” Mikey said when he’d finished.

“I put in everything that anyone needs to know,” Gerard said, a stubborn look on his face.

Mikey sighed. “People are going to think I’m hiding something. And they’d be right.”

“If they want to know, they can ask you,” Gerard said. Mikey shook his head.

“It looks weird,” he said. “All these other letter writers describe their Phases.” Of course, all the other letter writers had nice, normal Phases. Earth, Ice, fucking Lightning.

“If it bothers them, they’re not the right one,” Gerard said. “Since you’ve read all these replies already, do any of them sound like people you want to meet?”

“No,” said Mikey, trying to shove the letters into Gerard’s hands. Gerard wouldn’t take them.

“Come _on_ , Mikey,” said Gerard, his voice pleading. “I understand why you’re annoyed with me, okay? And I’m sorry. But I want you to give this a chance. Please.”

Mikey sighed, knowing that he was going to give in. He couldn’t deny Gerard anything when he asked like that, sounding so pathetic.

“One of these people must be a good match for you,” Gerard said, pulling a letter out of the pile. “Like this guy! He’s into horror movies... oh, that’s your vampire dude. Well, how about this girl, she’s an Anthrax fan too!”

“She’s not,” Mikey argued. “She doesn’t even know when they got together.”

“Okay,” said Gerard, taking the next letter, forehead creased with concentration. “We’ll keep looking...”

Three rejects later, Gerard came across a letter that read,

> Hey Anthrax Fan,
> 
> What’s your favourite Anthrax album? I’ve only got a couple of them myself, but they’re not bad. Punk is more my speed, though. I’ve got a band and we mainly play Ramones covers, which is okay I guess.
> 
> From your ad you sound like a pretty cool guy and I think we’ve got a lot in common. Although you are wrong about Dracula, wrong. Zombies are scarier and they can’t be killed by every little thing.
> 
> You probably want to know a bit more about me before you decide whether to reply, so here goes: I work at a manufacturing plant that makes surgical instruments. My primary Phase is Metal so that’s pretty handy. Music is my hobby, I have a show with my band most weekends. My favourite book is The Stand – I know, I know, it’s a cliché but come on! It’s just that good. I like rainy evenings but not rainy days. Shit, it’s hard to think of stuff to put in here. I’m not sure what you’ll want to know, but tell you what, let’s get coffee together or something and you can ask me anything.
> 
> Frank

“He sounds alright,” Gerard said. Mikey shrugged indifferently even though after re-reading Frank’s letter, he did sound like an okay guy.

“Metal,” Mikey said speculatively. It was odd; most people’s primary Phase was one of the big four – Earth, Air, Fire or Water. If Frank’s was Metal it could mean one of two things. Either he’d done a lot of training in Metalcraft, considered himself a bit of an expert at it and wanted to make sure everyone else knew it, or he didn’t have a pure element Phase. If it was the former, he’d probably be too much of a snob to reply to an ad from someone who didn’t mention their Phases at all. On the other hand, nearly everyone had at least one pure element. People who didn’t generally had very weak Phases. The more Mikey considered it, the more intrigued he became.

“Well?” Gerard pressed, and Mikey rolled his eyes at him, stepping away to get a notepad and write a reply.

***

Mikey was in his Water Phase, his favourite. It was Ray’s favourite, too, made him enormously useful at the nursery. For the weeks it lasted Mikey worked half days seven days a week, watering all the plants exactly the right amount. Because of that, he arranged to meet Frank for an early dinner. 

He’d suggested a diner not far from home that served good, cheap food. While he was getting ready, he got into a short argument with Gerard about whether it was polite or over eager to show up a few minutes early; cool or inconsiderate to be a few minutes late. By the time he got out to his car, he was running a bit later than he’d intended.

The diner was near empty at that time of day, but even if it hadn’t been, Frank was easy to spot. He’d described his hair to Mikey, long and black on top, short and bleached white on the sides. He was sitting on a stool at the counter and when Mikey got close, he looked around and grinned.

“Mikey?” he asked.

“Frank,” Mikey answered, holding out one hand to shake. He didn’t think he was imagining that Frank hesitated for a moment before taking it. Mikey glanced down at himself, self-conscious. He’d showered after work, and put on clean clothes. Sometimes, when he wasn’t paying attention, water leaked out of his fingertips and got his clothes wet, but he’d been concentrating, not wanting to mess up his outfit before his date. He was sure he looked as put-together as he possibly could.

“Do you know what you want to order?” Frank asked. Mikey did; he knew the whole menu off by heart. 

Once they’d ordered, they both went quiet. Mikey toyed with his coffee cup and wondered where all his sociability had gone. He’d never really had trouble talking to people or making friends, even after his Null Phase manifested. Getting dates had been a little trickier, of course. Maybe that was the difference.

“What do you do?” Frank asked. Mikey launched into a description of Ray’s nursery, and that naturally led him to explain Gerard and some of the ways – although not the most recent – that he liked to meddle in Mikey’s life. After that, Mikey asked what it was like making surgical instruments, and Frank made a face.

“It’s as boring as it sounds,” he said, “but it’s about the only useful thing I can do, find impurities and irregularities in the metal, so you know. It’s alright. It matters, I guess, I’m making stuff people need. And my Phases cycle really rapidly, less than a week for both, so that makes scheduling a lot easier.”

Mikey nodded. “Both?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah... you noticed that, huh? Yeah, just Metal and Sense,” Frank said with a half-smile. He looked like he was trying really hard to pretend he didn’t care, but he obviously did. Most people had three or four Phases. Frank’s two would give very limited power without another, more substantial Phase in the mix. Mikey found that he sympathised.

“You’re touch sensitive?” he asked, and when Frank looked surprised he said, “You didn’t want to shake my hand when I came in.”

“Oh, right,” said Frank. “Yeah. I mean, it’s usually fine, most people are cool, but you can’t tell by looking who’s hiding some ugly emotions under the surface. I’ve been caught out a few times. Sorry about before.”

“It’s fine,” Mikey insisted. There was another lull in the conversation. This was the moment when he should tell Frank his own secrets, offer trust in return for trust. Mikey considered it and talked himself out of it, and then they started talking about music and the moment had passed.

***

They agreed to a second date, and then a third. Mikey liked Frank – liked him a lot, actually. He was funny, passionate and surprisingly finicky about certain things.

“You’re falling in loooove,” Ray mocked one day during a coffee break. In retaliation Mikey froze the coffee in his hand. Ray winced and pried his hand free of the cup, calling Mikey a dick. Mikey smirked and walked away.

It was only later on that Mikey remembered that Ray wasn’t a pushover. He was patient and creative, and he could do things in his Wood Phase that most people wouldn’t think of, never mind pull off. 

During his Ice Phase, Mikey worked a more normal eight hours a day, five days a week, and he was supposed to meet Frank at the cinema at six. He’d taken a change of clothes to work, and when he took his favourite t-shirt out of his bag a vine was growing right through it, from the waist to the left shoulder.

Mikey wondered how Ray had done it. The vine had woven right through his shirt, in and out of the cotton threads. Mikey shook the garment, faintly hoping that the vine would come loose. It didn’t, but he realised he could still put the shirt on. He dragged it over his head. The vine made a nice green pattern across his chest, but wasn’t too annoying.

“Ray,” he said as explanation when he met Frank later. “I think I might have accidentally started a prank war.”

“Sounds dangerous,” said Frank with a grin. They reached the ticket box and Frank handed his money over to Mikey. He’d chosen the movie and so insisted on paying, but Frank had fallen into the habit of getting Mikey to handle the actual transactions, even when he wasn’t in his Sense Phase.

The film had decent action sequences. During the slow parts, Mikey could see Frank fiddling with his lip ring, making its shape twist and bend, loop back on itself, fidgeting like someone clicking a pen over and over. It was weirdly fascinating, not that Mikey needed an excuse to stare at Frank’s mouth.

“What?” Frank said after a few minutes. “Is there something on my face?”

Mikey snickered. “I was looking at your lip ring,” he admitted, “so I guess, yeah.” Frank rolled his eyes and made the metal ring shape itself into a hand sticking its middle finger up. Mikey mustered the most mature reaction he could by throwing a handful of popcorn at him, which Frank tried to catch in his mouth.

They never did find out what happened at the end of the movie, but they had a great night anyway.

***

Mikey went to every one of Frank’s band’s shows. Most of them were pretty small, in shitty bars and opening for bigger groups. Mikey might have been biased, but he was pretty sure that Frank was the most talented musician in the band – in any band. He loved performing, too, throwing himself around the stage and screaming his lungs out. Nights when Frank played were always good nights.

After one show, Mikey was driving Frank home and pulled up in the driveway to let Frank out. He leaned across to Mikey’s seat and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come inside?”

Frank’s house was small, four rooms. Bedroom, combined bathroom and laundry, living room and combined kitchen and dining. Frank busied himself making a pot of coffee that Mikey was fairly sure neither of them were going to drink. He tossed his work clothes in the washing machine. He’d set off the sprinkler system at work four times that day – an impressive effort, since Ray limited his shifts to four hours a day during his Fire Phase. In retaliation, Ray had sent him to bag garden soil and then brought up a gust of wind that had covered Mikey in dirt from head to toe. As a result, his clothes were muddy and still smelled of smoke.

Frank poured the coffee into two mugs and handed one to Mikey. Their fingers brushed and Frank twitched a little bit, not in the wary, nervous way he had when they’d started dating, but more like he was trying to push into the contact. Mikey put his mug down and took Frank’s hands in both of his.

“What does it feel like?” he asked.

“What does what feel like?” Frank asked. Mikey twined his fingers through Frank’s.

“When you feel what I’m feeling,” he explained.

“Oh.” Frank rubbed Mikey’s knuckles with his thumb. “It’s like standing outside, in a forest. Or a field, or whatever,” he said. “And feeling the sun or the rain on my face.”

“What do you feel now?” Mikey asked.

Frank was quiet for a while, like he was thinking hard. “Warm,” he said eventually. “You’re never cold. Stormy sometimes, but never cold. Never completely sunny, either. You’ve always got clouds, Mikeyway.”

Mikey wanted to pull his hand away. He’d asked, but now he wished he hadn’t. He hadn’t been ready to hear what he looked like to Frank’s unique perception, and he felt uncomfortably exposed.

“It’s nice,” Frank said. “Most people think, oh, big deal, Sense barely even counts as a Phase so how bad can it be? I’m always so careful. But it’s different around you.”

Mikey shied away from the idea, the suggestion that Frank considered him safe, refused to let himself contemplate the inevitable hurt. This thing with Frank couldn’t last much longer, and it was going to hurt more the harder he tried to prolong it, but he couldn’t help himself. “What’s it like when we kiss?” he asked, leaning in to Frank, stopping with his lips just a fraction of an inch away. He let Frank initiate the kiss, closing his eyes and concentrating on the way it felt. It was good, it was always good, but he still wondered what it was like from Frank’s side.

“Awesome,” Frank mumbled when they ended the kiss. Mikey had to laugh a little at the vague answer, but Frank sounded happy and dazed so Mikey supposed he couldn’t be too critical.

Mikey slid his hands up the back of Frank’s shirt; Frank shivered and pressed closer to Mikey, their chests pushed firmly together. “What about that?” Mikey asked, and Frank just hummed, then made a slightly dissatisfied noise and stepped back to wrench his t-shirt over his head. He pulled Mikey’s off too, nudging Mikey’s hands aside when he didn’t move quickly enough. Mikey laughed and went along with it.

He lost a bit of time examining Frank’s tattoos. There were so many of them and they were all so unique – Mikey was sure that every one had a different story. He put a hand over the bird on Frank’s hipbone, just visible over the waistband of his jeans, and Frank put his lips to Mikey’s collarbone, pressing kisses along it and sucking a hickey into the base of Mikey’s throat. His knees went wobbly, and Mikey clutched at Frank’s shoulders.

He moaned, and Frank echoed the sound a beat later and a little softer, when Mikey put a hand to the nape of Frank’s neck and got a handful of Frank’s hair. “Bedroom,” he gasped, and Frank didn’t need any more encouragement than that.

***

It was possible that Mikey had sabotaged the whole relationship a little bit by not preparing ahead at all. He’d grown used to seeing Frank most nights, and Frank was definitely disappointed when he asked for a raincheck on dinner. Even more so when he did the same thing the next night and the night after that, with increasingly transparent excuses. Mikey didn’t see another option, though. He never left the house during his Null Phase, it wasn’t safe.

Mikey didn’t feel much better. He’d hoped that by some miracle, he and Frank would get through this without awkward questions being asked, but Frank was becoming more and more annoyed every time Mikey turned down a date. If Mikey were smart, he’d break up with him now before things got messy. Messier. He didn’t, though. 

Another phone call and another flimsy excuse, and Frank insisted that he was going to come out to Mikey’s house to see him. Nothing that Mikey said would discourage him, although he tried. He was furious at himself for being careless enough to have brought Frank home more than once. It made him way too easy to find. And he could just refuse to answer the door or even come downstairs, but he lived with Gerard, (more terrible planning) and Gerard was certain to let Frank in as soon as he turned up. He’d made it pretty clear that he thought Mikey’s refusal to talk to Frank was the height of stupidity. Mikey ground his teeth with frustration. He grabbed a pen, thinking that maybe he could write a note and make Gerard give it to Frank, but he didn’t have time to think about what he wanted to say before the pen wilted in his hand, turning black and cracking apart, turning to dust which disappeared before it hit the floor. Mikey sighed and resigned himself to waiting for Frank to arrive.

He heard the doorbell ring, and the front door open, and footsteps on the stairs. Then someone knocked on his bedroom door. It had to be Frank; Gerard never knocked.

“You in there, Mikey?” he called through the door.

“What are you doing here, Frank?” Mikey asked wearily.

“I said I was coming over, didn’t I?” Frank said, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “I decided that, even though you’re a complete failure at handling adult decisions, I’m going to give you another chance.”

“Don’t do me any favours,” Mikey snapped.

“For example,” Frank went on as though Mikey hadn’t spoken, “even though it was totally your turn to organise our next date, I’ve stepped up and taken care of it. We’re having sandwiches and talking through a closed door. If you open it, I can pass yours to you, or if you really need it, I’ve worked out a whole system of signals so that you can get your damn sandwich without us having to be in the same room.”

Mikey leaned against the door. “Did Gerard tell you?” he asked, voice trembling with betrayal.

“About your Null Phase? Shit, Mikey, it wasn’t hard to figure out, okay? I sort of wondered when I replied to your letter, but then I figured, well, if anyone’s not going to care that I barely Phase at all... and then you were awesome, and funny, and sweet. You never talk about your Phases and then you disappeared off the face of the earth. I can put two and two together, okay?”

“I didn’t want you to find out,” Mikey said stupidly.

“Yeah, well, you have a problem with hiding from things. We can work on it.” Frank fell silent and Mikey waited, barely daring to breathe. “Is it safe for me to come in?” Frank asked.

Mikey considered it. “I don’t think so,” he said regretfully. If Frank accused him of hiding from the issue he was going to be seriously tempted to step out of the room and – well. And if Frank got freaked out and ran for the hills, well, it would just prove Mikey’s point.

“Okay,” said Frank instead. “So what we’ll do is, I’ll put the sandwich just outside your door, and I’ll go downstairs and knock on the wall down there. And once you’re back in your room, knock on your door and I’ll come back up.”

So he really had made sandwiches. Mikey was weirdly charmed by that. It was good, too, salad and chutney. Sometimes Frank would put a slice of cheese in Mikey’s, but today he’d probably been too pissed off. It was still good, though.

“Do you really spend your entire Phase in your bedroom?” Frank asked.

“No,” said Mikey. “Just when I’m a bit upset, or whatever. Then my control’s not so good.” Frank was quiet and Mikey quickly added, “I’ve never hurt anyone. Just... I Nullified my mom’s eyebrows once. She had to draw them on for like, six months.” Frank gave a short, high pitched giggle. “I’m careful, but it’s still risky,” Mikey said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... but I did. The best thing would be to stop here, before we get in too deep.”

“Bullshit,” said Frank, and he sounded pissed again. “Get in too deep, my ass. I don’t know what you think I’m doing, over here, but you’re already in love with me.” Mikey froze by the door, and Frank sighed. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you sort of forced my hand,” he said. “Telling your boyfriend that _they_ love _you_ doesn’t tend to go over so well, but since you insist on being dense, I thought you might need the heads up.”

Mikey bent over, putting one hand to the door for support. “It doesn’t matter,” he choked out. “We can’t just make this work through the power of love, Frank.”

“No,” said Frank, sounding a little more pissed off. “But we can make it work by being reasonable adults who take sensible precautions and talk about their shit.” He paused for breath. “I’d sort of like to give it a shot, since I’m pretty damn in love with you too.” 

“But I could hurt you.”

“You said you’ve never hurt anyone. You think that’s going to change with me? Like you’ll be less careful around me or something?”

“No,” said Mikey, horrified at the thought. “No, of course not, but...”

“Can’t you tell when you’re about to Nullify something? You said your control is weaker when you’re upset. Can you feel it coming on?”

“Yeah, it comes and goes. It’s easier to control when I can Nullify stuff that doesn’t matter, kind of take the edge off. We never have to shred old bank statements or anything.”

“Handy,” said Frank, sounding amused.

“It is,” Mikey agreed. The lighthearted moment didn’t last long. “I know you mean well, Frank, but are you sure...”

“Yeah,” Frank said fiercely. “What did you expect, that I’d leave as soon as I found out?”

Mikey was quiet for a few seconds, trying to find his voice. “Everyone else always has,” he whispered at last.

He could hear Frank suck in a deep breath on the other side of the door. “Yeah, well, fuck ‘em,” he said. “Mikey, can you open the door? Please? I want to see you. I just really want that.”

At first, Mikey meant to say no, but he was feeling steadier. Not completely, but he knew he wasn’t about to lose control of the Phase, and he wanted to see Frank too.

Frank smiled through the crack in the door when Mikey held it ajar. “Hey,” he said. He held out a hand, but let Mikey be the one to decide to take it or not. It was warm in his, guitar calluses rough against his palm. “I wondered if I’d be able to feel it,” Frank said in a low voice, “but that’s stupid. I can’t tell the difference between your other Phases. But I bet I’d notice if you were about to lose it. I’d be able to tell, I’m sure.”

“I’d rather not put it to the test,” said Mikey, the mere suggestion making him want to pull his hand away.

“Okay,” said Frank, smiling. “If you insist on it, I’ll spend every Null Phase sitting right outside this closed door and keeping you company. If that’s the only way I can be here, it’s what I’ll do. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Mikey’s fingers involuntarily tightened around Frank’s hand, and he gripped it for a few seconds before making himself let go, smiling at Frank to make sure he understood it wasn’t a rejection.

“You could have a normal relationship with someone, you could have anyone else,” he said, even though he didn’t really mean it anymore. He had to be sure. He didn’t think he could stand it if Frank ended up resenting him, or feeling trapped.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve got plans for once your Phase is over – I guess we could both sit in the dark together and brood over our imperfect lives, if you’ve got your heart set on it, but if I can talk you out of it maybe we could go to a music festival or a hockey game or something. You know, the sort of thing we’ve been doing for the past couple of months. Or do you mean something else by normal?”

Mikey shifted where he was sitting on the floor, so that he could lean against the wall and still see Frank’s face. It didn’t show in his voice, but he looked anxious, like there was a lot riding on Mikey’s reaction. Mikey decided to stop arguing. His heart wasn’t in it and Frank was obviously a lot more stubborn than he was.

“Tell me more about this music festival,” he said, and when Frank smiled Mikey thought he might have an idea of what Frank’s Sense Phase could be like – he felt warmed from the inside out, hopeful when minutes before he’d barely been able to remember what hope was.

“Okay, it’s like this...” Frank began, gesturing widely, and Mikey settled in to listen.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Sometimes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928697) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




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